


Faking it

by scalira



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia promised to bring her boyfriend to the next family reunion. Only problem: she doesn't have a boyfriend. Fortunately, she does have a friend who is a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faking it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mel/gifts).



> Yes, I know. It's a horribly unoriginal title I am aware of this let me be

“I need your help.” 

Malia is standing at his front door, pale and big-eyed and with an expression on her face that tells him that she may have just killed a man and she needs him to help her hide the body.

Being the great friend and possible accomplice that he is, Stiles steps aside so that she can enter his apartment.

The girl walks past him and heads straight for the couch, where she throws herself on the piece of furniture like she’s just been shot.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when he’s seated as well. Malia rubs her face and turns to him.

“Okay, so here’s the thing. I’m flying over to Florida in a week and my whole family is gonna be there and I was on the phone with my sister a few weeks ago and she kept on bragging about her beautiful and amazing girlfriend so I may have said I have a boyfriend just because I wanted to get even with her and she just texted me saying how much she’s looking forward to meet him.” The words tumble out like a waterfall, hard to follow and stringing together so that they almost form a language on their own.

“Okay, and what’s the problem?”

“Oh my god, Stiles, I don’t _have_ a boyfriend! And if I show up single I’ll be totally embarrassed and my sister will never drop it.”

Stiles makes a face at her, shifts on the couch so that their knees are touching.

“You never mentioned your sister being that horrible.”

Malia throws her head in her neck in desperation, makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

“She isn’t! She’s the sweetest person ever, and that’s the thing! She’ll just look at me like she does, full of sympathy and understanding and pity and she’ll probably pat my hand and say ‘I’ll find the right guy one day’ and if I have to listen to her talk about all the guys she knows that would match me I’m going to scream.”

“Malia,” Stiles says, and she tilts her head to look at him, “I don’t want to be rude, but why did you come to _me_  with this? I mean, surely Kira knows how to deal with this kind of thing better than I do.”

“Well,” Malia sighs, sitting up and tugging her legs under her butt, “I just- thought you could... help me.”

“Help you how?” He asks, totally oblivious. He’s guessing she needs help coming up with an excuse - he’s really good at those. Excuses for being late, for not showing up at all, to get himself out of trouble... he could definitely help her out of this situation with a bit of imagination.

Malia doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, thoughtfully biting her lip as she stares at him. Stiles’ eyes automatically dart to her mouth, but he forces them to find her eyes again.

Then she combs her fingers through her hair, something she does often when she’s nervous, and spills it out: “Could you _please_  be my boyfriend for the weekend? I swear it won’t be hard, you just have to hold my hand and talk to my family and let me sit on your lap if the situation calls for it. You know, do whatever it is that boyfriends do.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“Like _kissing_?”

He doesn’t miss the blush coloring Malia’s cheeks before she ducks her head and clears her throat.

* * *

 

“I mean, no dirty french kisses. Maybe a peck on the lips every once in a while.”

Stiles’ eyes dart back to her lips, looking as soft and pink as always. He wouldn’t mind finding out what they taste like, even if it’s fake. He wouldn’t mind at all.

“Will you do it?”

Stiles focuses back on her eyes, dark and big and waiting for an answer. When he finally nods, they turn almond shaped as she smiles widely.

“Thank you, you’re my savior!” She throws her arms around his neck and showers him with wet kisses all over his cheek and jaw. It’s not unusual she does things like this; she never really mastered the etiquette of normal human relationships. 

Stiles falters under Malia’s weight and falls back onto the couch, her body pressed against his on top of him and her smile pressed against his neck.

As she settles into the crook of his neck as if she’s planning to stay there for a while, Stiles sighs internally and wonders how it’s possible for anyone to stay strictly platonic with a girl like her.

* * *

 

Okay, here’s the thing.

Stiles has had a crush on Malia since, like, the moment she stepped into his Psychology class. Her hair was longer back then, flowing dark and wild over her shoulders like an untamed ocean. He remembers her expression used to be harder, more feral, like an animal on the hunt. Stiles takes pride in knowing that he was part of the reason her face softened over time.

She had been dressed in floral pants and an army jacket, which seems like a weird combination unless Malia is the one wearing it. She wore heavy boots on her feet, shoes Stiles was sure she hadn’t found in the girls’ department.

And then she had walked straight up to him, her eyes dark and hungry and resting on his face, and he had sat up straight and cleared his throat when she opened her mouth to speak.

“Is this seat taken?” Were the first words she ever spoke to him. When he had shaken his head, she had gracefully sat down next to him and introduced herself as Malia.

He remembers shaking her hand, the feeling of her cold fingers wrapped around his own warm hand.

They had started talking during class, about something he doesn’t remember, and have been talking ever since.

And it’s good, they’re good. They’re good during class and at night and when they’re squeezed in Stiles’ small kitchen to attempt to cook dinner and they’re good when they share pizza and watch movies.

Stiles just can’t shake the feeling they could be _better_.

For example, it’s good when Malia kisses him on the cheek, but it would be better if she kissed him on his lips. It’s good when his fingers accidentally brush her hips, but it would be better if there wasn’t anything accidental about it.

It’s good that they’re friends, but it would be better if they were _more_.

So when Malia is over at his one night and says they ‘should practise’ Stiles is all ears.

He tries to act casual, takes a sip of his beer before facing her.

“What do you mean?” He asks innocently.

“You know,” Malia gestures between the two of them, “us. Being together. So we don’t come off fake.”

“Trust me, I’m a great actor,” Stils brags.

Malia quirks an eyebrow at him, looks him up and down as if she can see the acting talent radiating off of him.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” she dares.

“Okay,” Stiles immediately agrees, shifting on the couch to face her more.

“If we were at your family’s now, I’d probably do this.”

He reaches for her face, gently strokes her cheek with the tips of his fingers. He moves to push her hair behind her ear, traces her jaw with his thumb.

Malia’s eyes never leave his face, only stare more intently.

“What would you do next?” She asks, and Stiles likes to think he isn’t imagining her sounding breathless.

“Probably this.” He lets his hand slide down her neck, lets it rest on her fluttering pulse. Then he moves forward until they’re almost nose to nose, looking for hesitation on her face.

When he can’t find any, he closes the distance between them and presses his lips onto hers.

He feels her gasp more than he hears it and she’s pulling back before he can properly taste her lips, something close to panic in her eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” He’s immediately worried, forgetting his crush and stepping back into the role of concerned friend.

“I thought you - you wanted to practise. I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I-”

“No,” Malia quickly interrupts, “no, you didn’t do anyting wrong. It’s just that uh  that kinda was my first kiss.”

“Really?”

Malia nods shyly, turning a beautiful shade of pink. Stiles barely gets to see her blush, and he enjoys it for a moment before continuing.

“Was it a good first kiss?”

The tense moment passes and Malia grins, punching him on the arm.

“Yeah, it was pretty great. Just don’t kiss me like that in front of my parents if you don’t want my dad to hunt you down, okay?”

Stiles mimics her easy smile.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

They come together a few times over the course of the next couple of days, coming up with their love story and casually holding hands so it doesn’t feel weird when Malia reaches for his hand anymore.

It never felt weird to begin with, but Malia doesn’t have to know that.

They kiss a few more times too, brushing their lips softly and swiftly. Stiles regrets not being able to kiss her properly, but he’ll take what he can get.

And then Friday comes and Stiles is packing for his trip to Florida in the middle of the night (their flight leaves at 5am) and he’s only a tiny bit nervous that he’ll be trapped in a flying coffin for five hours.

When Malia comes to pick him up, she looks more relaxed than he’s seen her in days. It raises suspicion.

Stiles squints at her.

“Why are you so relaxed?” He asks.

“I took some pills,” she explains with a smile.

“Not too many, don’t worry. Just to ease the nerves.”

“Are you afraid of flying too?”

“No, I’m nervous to see my family again. Wait, are you?”

Stiles huffs, straightens his jacket. Then he picks up his bag and walks past her.

“Lets go,” he says.

* * *

 

The flight isn’t that bad, to his surprise. Malia lets him hold her hand when they take off and orders him a coke and some chips once they’re steady in the air. She even kisses him on the cheek when there’s a bit of turbulance. They watch movies to pass the time, pressing play on the exact same time after having bet on whose movie will start to play first.

And then they’re landing and leaving the plane and walking through the airport and before he realizes it, he’s standing in front of Malia’s family.

Malia’s dad is a tall and stoic man, with piercing blue eyes and thinning hair. His handshake is a little too strong and his smile a little too tight, but then Malia embraces him and he melts under her touch.

“I missed you, Mal,” he smiles in her hair.

“Missed you too, dad.” Then Malia lets go off him and her mother takes his place.

Where Mr. Tate is tall and stoic, Mrs. Tate is short and lively. She seems to be contantly moving, even when she’s standing still, and Stiles sees a lot of Malia in her dark eyes and hair.

“Hi,” Malia’s mother says, reaching out to Stiles to shake his hand.

“I’m Melanie.”

Stiles shakes her hand, smiles.

“Stiles,” he introduces himself.

Malia looks around and then turns to her mother again. The woman is shorter than her, and Malia has to look down to look her in the eye.

“Where’s Sophie?” She asks.

“At home, preparing dinner with Tracy.” 

Melanie looks over to Stiles.

“That’s her girlfriend,” she informs him.

“I know,” he replies, remembering the nights Malia and him had spent drawing her famile tree and learning all the names until he could dream them.

“Okay, let’s go see them, then!”

Malia’s mom makes a gesture as if she’s gathering sheep and starts walking towards the exit, and the others follow suite.

Malia carefully laces their fingers together and it feels as natural as breathing, but Stiles doesn’t miss the way Mr. Tate - _Henry_  - looks at their hands.

* * *

 

The Tate family is... overwhelming, to say the least. Malia had warned him that her family was big, but he’s already shaken hands with five uncles, seven aunts, two great aunts, one set of grandparents and three nieces, who all giggled when Stiles sunk to his knees to shake their tiny hands.

They finally make their way to the kitchen, where two girls and an older lady are busy preparing a meal.

“Sophie!” Malia screams before lunging forward and wrapping her arms around the younger girl.

“Malia, you’re finally here!” The sisters tightly embrace, and Malia finaly pulls back after a few seconds to point to Stiles.

“That’s Stiles,” she says, and then with a grin, “my boyfriend.”

It’s the first time Malia has used the word to directly address him, and Stiles is a bit embarrassed by the sudden pang of want in his stomach.

Sophie walks towards him and pulls him to her chest without a warning.

“Hi,” she beams. When she smiles, it’s like he’s looking at a younger Malia. Sophie’s hair is longer, though, and darker than Malia’s. Her eyes are the same piercing blue as that of their father.

“I’m Sophie, but I’m sure Malia has told you everything about me already.” Then she links their arms together and pulls him towards the other girl.

“You can cook, right?” She asks. Stiles looks over his shoulder to Malia and throws her a desperate look, but she just gives him a thumbs up and waves to Sophie’s girlfriend.

Stiles is quickly introduced to Tracy, a skinny girl with a big smile and beautiful eyes, and is immediately put to work.

Malia pats him on the butt and gives him a quick kiss in his neck before saying she’s gonna meet her other family members.

Stiles is immediately dragged into an interrogation about how he and Malia met - college - and when he knew he was in love with her - immediately - and what their fist kiss was like - sweet and short. He doesn’t even have to lie. Sophie asks other questions too, about his college major and his family and his hometown. She’s a very easy person to talk to, just like her sister.

By the time Stiles thinks she’s finally satisfied with his answers, it’s well after noon.

They spend the rest of the day mostly in their huge backyard, drifting from group to group to talk, and when they finally have a moment to themselves, Malia drags him into the woods behind their property.

“So,” she says as they walk through the forest, “how are you liking it so far?”

“Well, it’s definitely... _crowded_.”

Malia laughs and nudges him with her shoulder.

“Seriously though, your family is really nice. Sophie is a little curious, though.”

“Oh god, what did she do?”

“Nothing too bad, she just asked a lot about us.”

“You told her what we practised, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. She seems to buy it.”

“Okay, good. Everyone seems to believe it. Hey.” She takes his hand and stops walking.

“Thank you, Stiles. Really. I owe you.” Then she stretches her neck to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Stiles feels himself fluster and ducks his head to hide his blush, mumbling ‘you’re welcome’ under his breath.

They walk through the woods till the sun starts to set and then head back to the Tate residence. Everyone is gathering inside for dinner, and Stiles is being pulled between two aunts of Malia who ask him the most trivial things about their niece throughout the meal.

By the end of the night, Stiles is exhausted.

They gave them Malia’s old bedroom and Malia’s dad is sure to mention he’ll be checking up on them later that night. Malia rolls her eyes at him and drags Stiles upstairs.

They’re both too tired to make a big deal out of sharing a bed. Besides, it isn’t the first time they do it: when they go out, they often crash at the place closest to the bar of their choice so they don’t have to walk too far. It’s becoming pretty normal to them.

Malia thanks him one last time before turning away from him and wishing him a good night. They’re both asleep by the time her dad comes to check on them the first time.

* * *

 

The second day is exactly like the first. Darting from group to group, answering a lot of questions, eating a lot of food. The family goes on a hike during the afternoon and Malia’s niece Melody insists on sitting in Stiles’ neck during the whole thing.

He runs around with her in his neck, making plane noises and taking sharp turns to get a scream out of her.

Halfway through the walk, Malia joins them and takes his hand. Stiles’ chest tightens, but he tries to stay casual when he squeezes her hand.

“How’s it going, Melody?” Malia asks as she looks up.

The child just giggles and pulls Stiles’ hair in response to make him go faster.

“Duty calls,” Stiles smiles, and he quickly pecks her on the lips before running off again.

He doesn’t realize he just kissed her when nobody was there to see until he’s already back in front of the line with Melody.

* * *

 

He knows the spontaneous kiss is gonna come back to bite him in the ass, but he tries to pretend nothing is wrong as long as he can keep up the act. He lets Malia sit on his lap, gives her small kisses on her cheek when family is watching, even kisses her on the lips once or twice to keep up the appearances.

But that night, when they’re in bed, Malia turns to him and says the words he was dreading to hear.

“Stiles, I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Of course she doesn’t, it makes total sense. She realized he has legitimate feelings for her and wants to cut this off before things can get too awkward.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, already turning away from her.

But Malia grabs him by the shoulder and turns him back to face her.

“No, Stiles. You - you kissed me today. When nobody was watching.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Why?”

Oh jesus. Does she really want him to spell it out for her?

“Because... just because,” he shrugs. Real smooth, Stiles. Way to go.

“No, don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Close off like that. Shrug it off. I want to talk about it.”

“What do you want me to say, Malia? That I have been in love with you since the day I met you? That all of this - this fake dating - that none of it is fake to me? Because it’s true. I’m head over heels for you and I know you just see me as a friend so can we just drop it and m-”

But Malia doesn’t let him finish. She moves forward and presses her lips onto his.

He gasps into the kiss, his eyes flying open in shock.

“I thought you would never stop talking,” Malia smiles once she pulls back.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to fake date anymore. I want to date for real.”

“Really?”

When Malia nods, Stiles kisses her again. Her hands creep up his neck and his arms wrap around her waist to pull her closer.

All Stiles can think about when she deepens the kiss and his tongue dips into her mouth, is that he won’t have to hold back on his afffection for Malia tomorrow anymore.


End file.
